


event boundary

by vipertooths



Series: HP: Draco/Harry [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Draco's Parents Love Him, Emotional Constipation, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Is Alive, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Humor, M/M, Oblivious Draco, Oblivious Harry, POV Harry Potter, Pureblood Culture, Synesthetic Aura, Voldemort Never Returned, but the changes dont really affect much, liberties have been taken with how hogwarts functions, that i totally made up lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-19 02:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15499818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipertooths/pseuds/vipertooths
Summary: After an unfortunate potions accident, Draco ends up with a very peculiar colour-changing aura.Some alternative titles to this story include:Potions Brewing Gone WrongDraco, The Walking Mood RingTeenage Libidos Be DamnedPureblood Politics are Fucking WeirdIt's Not Love, Hermione(On temp hiatus until For Want of Worth is completed.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts.  
> \- Marcus Aurelius

The first thing Harry registers when the smoke clears is that Snape looks positively livid. The second, and possibly more important, is that there’s a strange coloured fog hovering around Malfoy. Harry watches it turn from yellow to green as the Slytherin regains his bearings and turns to his Potions partner to begin reprimanding her. He doesn't get very far in his tirade before he is interrupted by Snape, who tells him to go see Madam Pomfrey.

The colour shifts again, this time to purple, as Malfoy looks at his hands and then reaches up to touch his face. “Why? What’s wrong with me?”

Snape simply raises an eyebrow and Malfoy stands and sees himself out, the eyes of the entire class on his back. Snape calls their attention back to their projects and turns a shrewd eye on the girl who had been paired with Malfoy. Some of the colour drains from her face.

“Ten points from Gryffindor.”

Harry is just kind of glad it wasn’t him this time.

+

Harry doesn't see Malfoy again until that night in the Great Hall. Everyone’s eyes are drawn to him as he makes his way to the Slytherin table, head held high. The mist surrounding him is red this time and Harry wonders if there's rhyme or reason for the changes.

“I wonder what makes the colour change,” Hermione says to him, as if reading his mind. The hall begins to fill with murmurs, but most people have the decency to stop outright staring. Harry, on the other hand, takes advantage of having an excuse to watch Malfoy and does so openly. To most onlookers, he would likely come across as interested in the mist.

His friends aren't most onlookers though, and Ron jabs him in the side with a pointy elbow. He retaliates by ‘accidentally’ pouring pumpkin juice onto Ron’s mash, which Ron then flings at him. He ducks, and it lands in a blob on Neville’s plate, making both of them laugh. Neville looks up, bewildered, and Harry laughs harder, several other snickers and giggles joining his own.

When everyone finally calms down, Neville begins eating around the pumpkin mash, and Harry’s gaze is inevitably drawn back to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy is looking straight at him. The mist is a pleasing shade of pink at first, but abruptly turns purple as he sneers and looks back at his food.

Harry sighs and shoves a bite of food in his mouth without looking. Malfoy was such a twat. It was like his good looks were trying to make up for his lack of decency. It was unfortunate that it had been Malfoy, of all people, to make Harry realize that he liked boys more than he thought he did. Sometimes, in the right lighting, Malfoy looked so otherwordly that it made his breath catch. It was frustrating, to say the least, to be so attracted to such an arse of a person.

"Harry."

He blinks and looks at Hermione, who's watching him with a small smile. "Huh?"

"You've brought an empty fork to your mouth three times now."

Looking down at his fork, which had been halfway to his mouth, he realizes that she's right. He refocuses on his food and pushes Malfoy from his mind. "I spaced out."

Her smile spreads. "I wouldn't have guessed."

+

“Your form is terrible today, Potter.”

Harry rolls his eyes as Malfoy flies a circle around him. He’s been pink for nearly all of quidditch practice, which has been rather distracting. It makes him seem softer, somehow.

“You know, I think you're right.”

Malfoy’s smirk falters and his aura, as Hermione had taken to calling it, goes orange. Harry barely registers it, focusing on the snitch in his peripheral vision.

“You're spot on though,” Harry continues, subtly angling his broom in its direction. He keeps his eyes on Malfoy, lest he give up the game. When he's in position, he spares Malfoy's dumbfounded face a smirk before he dives for the snitch. He nearly loses his grip on his broom, but he manages to pluck it from the air. His team cheers and he grins, looking over his shoulder to find Malfoy purple and scowling at him. He raises his eyebrows and is rewarded with the scowl doubling in intensity.

“You distracted me on purpose.”

“You don't like when Slytherin tricks are turned back at you?” Harry asks. He’d merely taken advantage of the circumstances.

“As if you could ever be worthy enough to call yourself a Slytherin,” Malfoy sniffs, aura steadily desaturating as they talk.

Harry flies casually to his side and leans in as if revealing a great secret. “It was a nearer call than you'd think.”

The aura saturates again, as if it has a mind of its own and he just barely keeps himself from trying to put his hand into it.

“What are you on about?”

Harry leans closer, sucks in a breath, and is then so forcefully slapped on the back that he’s launched into a short coughing fit. He looks over to see Ron staring at him much too innocently.

“Gonna stay up here all day, mate? Let’s go.”

"What are you, his keeper?"

Ron glares daggers at Malfoy. "I'm his friend, actually. I know you don't have any, so I can't say I'm surprised that you don't know what they are."

Harry feels his skin prickle with irritation at the both of them. "Let's go, Ron."

He turns and flies away without an answer, waiting for them to both reach the ground before he asks why Ron hit him nearly hard enough to rupture an organ.

“Honestly, Harry, if you could’ve seen yourself, you would be thanking me right now. I thought you two were going to start snogging in the middle of the pitch.”

"I think he'd be more likable like that. He wouldn't be able to talk."

Ron snorts. "That's a sound theory, but please don't put it to the test; I'd like for my food to stay in my stomach."

+

"I've been watching Malfoy," Hermione says, completely unprompted, on their walk to Potions nearly a week after the potions accident.

Ron and Harry both look to her with dubious expressions, but it's Ron who speaks. "Why would you do a thing like that?"

She sighs as if she's dealing with very small children who must have everything explained to them. "I have been studying the aura."

"Of course you have been," Ron says, giving Harry a look that says _here we go again_. Harry doesn't return it this time though. He's curious as to what Hermione has found out.

"I think the colours change according to his mood. I can't be one hundred percent certain, but it's my best guess. I have so many unanswered questions. If it's able to be reversed eventually, I may try to recreate the failed experiment myself. Lynn may have accidentally created a very interesting potion."

Harry begins to tune her out as he thinks back to his time with Malfoy in the past week. He attempts to fit Hermione's theory into the memories and finds that they seem to coincide. Harry can't imagine the thought of having his feelings on display all the time and wonders if Malfoy even knows about it himself. Probably. He is the one dealing with it, after all.

When they get to class, Harry says he's going to put her theory to the test and forgoes his usual spot to slide into the seat at Malfoy’s side. He smiles, watching the colours change repeatedly until stopping on a reddish-purple. If they really changed based on emotion, then he should probably pay more attention to the varying shades. Maybe he should start writing them down. Knowing Hermione, she probably already had notes on it that he could copy. They could compile a nice list together.

“What are you doing, Potter?”

“Sitting.” His smile is unwavering, despite the attention he’s attracting. “Perhaps you're the one that ought to have glasses.”

Malfoy simply stares at him for a moment. The aura has begun to shift further into red. Taking in previous encounters, it seems pretty obvious that red is tied in with anger and frustration. He watches Malfoy carefully, attempting to glean something from his expression.

“Content as you may be to gaze into each other’s eyes for the rest of the day, I request that you pay attention in my class.”

Harry’s cheeks heat at Snape’s words and a quiet round of snickering ripples through the room. Malfoy's aura has gone a deep purple and Harry finds it more difficult than he should to turn away. Embarrassment, then? But no, that doesn't seem right, thinking back on the other times he’s seen it. He'll definitely need Hermione's help with this.

So caught up in thinking as he is, he only barely pays enough attention not to earn Snape’s ire… or at least more ire than is typically directed his way.

The rest of Potions passes as a mostly dull affair and Harry breathes a sigh of relief when it ends, but Malfoy seems to be pretending that he doesn't exist, which is just not on. As everyone gathers their things to leave, he waits until Malfoy is just about to step by to turn into his path. The plan is to hold him up long enough to speak with him and hopefully get some new colours out of him. Unfortunately, he hadn't counted for the force of the impact, which sends them both falling to the floor.

Malfoy quickly pushes off of him and Harry assumes there’s glowering involved, but can't be sure; he’s got his face pressed firmly to the floor that he’s hoping will swallow him. Admittedly, his plan had been a shitty one.

“I understand that sight is not one of your better senses, if it can be argued that you have any sense at all, but watch what you're doing, for Merlin’s sake.”

Harry groans in response before pushing himself up. Malfoy is standing above him now, dusting imaginary dirt from his robes and looking attractively ruffled. The mist is purple remains somewhere between red and purple as Malfoy steps past him and walks out. He glances up to see his friends staring down at him and quickly pushes himself off the floor. He directs his attention towards Hermione. "I need to know everything you've learned about the aura."

She lights up at the prospect of sharing her findings. To her side, Ron deflates like a balloon.

+

“You're staring again,” Hermione says quietly, resting a hand on Harry’s arm and making him jerk his gaze away from the sweat droplet rolling down Malfoy’s neck. He tries, probably fruitlessly, to stop himself from flushing, and gives her a small smile.

“Of all the bloody blokes,” Ron mutters, openly glaring at Malfoy, who catches sight of it and returns a sneer. Ron flips him the bird.

“Stop it,” Hermione admonishes, pushing his hand back down to his side.

“Come on, ‘Mione, you can't really _support_ this. Our best mate fancying _Draco_ sodding _Malfoy_?”

“You can’t really be this put out over it still. We've known about it for weeks now: plenty of time for the idea to settle. And I want Harry to be happy, and I trust him, and I trust he wouldn't get into a relationship unless he was certain—”

Harry huffs and stands up, cutting off their squabbling. “There's nothing I'd rather do _less_ than start a relationship with Malfoy.” It’s true; no amount of teenage hormones could make him think that getting involved with Malfoy could be anything but disastrous.

“I assure you, Potter, that the feeling is mutual.”

Harry starts at the unexpected voice, then glowers at Malfoy, because being angry is better than being embarrassed or turned on. Still, he has to admit that when Malfoy narrows his eyes and rakes them over his body, there's quite a bit of the latter going on. Teenage libidos be damned.

Without another word, Malfoy walks off, and Harry feels a stab of disappointment. He watches until Malfoy is no more than a blob of blue before turning back towards his friends.

Hermione is frowning into her lap and it takes Harry a moment to pinpoint her expression; it’s the one she gets when she’s considering her options to a serious problem.

“What is it, ‘Mione?”

“Are you sure that you don't want to date Malfoy?” She ignores Ron’s sputtering and meets Harry’s wide-eyed stare. He opens his mouth, but she cuts him off by raising a hand. “I'm serious. Answer me after you think about it for a while.”

He nods silently, though he knows the answer won't change even if he thinks on it for a whole year, because she looks quite somber. She scrutinizes him for a little while longer before standing and declaring that they should be off for class.

Ron catches his gaze and gives him a questioning look, which he answers with a shrug. There’s just no following Hermione’s thoughts sometimes.

+

Harry is sitting in the library, trying futilely to study something that _isn't_ Malfoy, when Ron drops into the seat next to him.

“Mate, I've got an idea.”

Harry gratefully takes the distraction and lets his eyes widen at his friend. “Did it hurt?”

Hermione looks up from her work with a single raised eyebrow as Ron frowns. “Did what hurt?”

“You said you had an idea. You must've been thinking pretty hard. Rigorous activity for you, yeah?”

Malfoy snickers at the next table over and Harry resists the urge to look at him, though he can't keep the grin from pulling at his lips. Ron, on the other hand, is not nearly as amused. He crosses his arms and looks pointedly unimpressed. “You and ferret face deserve each other. I guess you don’t want help—”

Harry quickly casts a silencing spell in the middle of Ron’s talking.

“—getting over your gross crush on the git,” he finishes.

Hermione is staring Malfoy’s way, biting her lip, and Harry makes it a point to glare at Ron instead of following suit. He honestly doesn't _want_ to know what Malfoy thinks of that comment.

“I don't have a crush. I just...think he’s fit. Anyway, what idea are you talking about?”

Ron finally relaxes and leans forwards on the table. “Okay, maybe you just need to remind yourself of how terrible Malfoy is."

"Trust me, I know how terrible he is."

"He hasn't been messing with you as much this year," Ron continues as if Harry hadn't spoken, "so maybe you've gotten it into your head that he’s _good_ now or something. But really he’s still a right prick.”

Hermione looks under the impression that it’s a ridiculous idea. Harry would probably agree, if he weren't so desperate for something that could help shake his attraction to Malfoy.

“What's your plan then?”

“You need to write down the things you look for in a partner, and then cross out everything that Malfoy doesn't fit.”

“You really think that’ll work?” Hermione asks incredulously. "Honestly, Ron, that's ridiculous."

“Worth a try,” Harry mumbles and grabs a fresh piece of parchment. His hand hovers for a second as he contemplates, then he gets the feeling he’s overthinking and just writes what first comes to mind.

 _Loyal_  
_Kind_  
_Funny_  
_Clever_  
_Similar Interests_

Ron turns the list and reads it, nodding. “Alright then. But I think you forgot something.” He pulls the quill from Harry’s hand and adds a point at the end.

_Not a Malfoy_

He grins, clearly proud of his work, and Harry rolls his eyes, but smiles back. Hermione sighs and thumps a large book on top of it, then gives Harry a pointed look. _Right. Studying._

+

Harry would like to say that he uses his invisibility cloak for nobler things than sneaking out of places he _should_ be and into places he _shouldn't_ be, but then he'd be a liar. He stands in the corner of the Slytherin common room, wondering if he should feel guiltier about that.

There are only a handful of students up, and they all seem to be keeping to themselves, barring Malfoy and Parkinson, who are sitting rather close together. He edges as near to them as he dares, keeping his back against the wall, and listens.

“Of course I'd date you, darling.” Parkinson rests her head on Malfoy’s shoulder, earning a twitch of his lips. He looks a bit sleepy and his aura is a blue that's almost grey. “The question is, would _you_ date _me_?”

He hums while he considers the question. “Would you be dating me for love or status?”

“Obviously status.”

“Then I don't see why not,” Malfoy returns easily. Harry balks at the strangeness of the conversation.

There's a momentary silence and then Parkinson finally lifts her head. “Are you asking me this for the reason I think you are?”

Malfoy only sighs and his aura gets a bit bluer and darker. Parkinson looks almost empathetic to his obvious distress.

Harry waits patiently for any further information, but after ten minutes of watching them do nothing, they only begin talking about inane subjects like teachers and coursework. Harry quietly slips away, wondering what _reason_ Parkinson was referring to that would make Malfoy look so dejected. He’s still wondering about it by the time he falls asleep that night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I've been sitting on this fic for a while and was going to rewrite it for a different fandom and in the midst of that, I remembered how much I love drarry, so I decided to just continue it as is. If you don't already know what event boundary is, I would ask that you patiently wait for it to be explained in the fic if you can :) 
> 
> Please leave feedback or kudos, they really motivate me to continue stories. ♥


	2. Chapter 2

Talking with Malfoy has become a game of sorts since the Potions accident. Harry can't help but find enjoyment in pushing his buttons to see what colour he'll turn. With Hermione's help, they've got a rough idea of what some of them mean, though specific shades are much harder to determine.

Reds are for angry emotions. Pinks for happy ones. Yellows and oranges for surprise and confusion. They'd seen him green on some occasions, which seems to mean he is less than pleased with something. He's also been purple his fair share of times, but no one emotion seems to fit for all of the situations. They were left with blues and greys being sadness by process of elimination. Malfoy didn't seem to sport those very much, and it's not as if he'd tell Harry if he were sad, but their guess seemed pretty solid.

At some point over the past two weeks, however, Malfoy had come to realize that Harry was bothering him just to see the aura change colour and had since been much more difficult to get a rise out of. It only made Harry want to try harder, so he'd acquired the habit of doing and saying things he normally wouldn't just to catalog the effects his actions had. As sitting next to Malfoy at potions had become too normalized, he decided he'd have to up the ante.

It is the reason why, when they enter the Great Hall, he tells his friends that he'll meet up with them after and proceeds to sit down at the Slytherin table.

All eyes fall on him as he takes up the spot next to Malfoy, who seems temporarily shocked into silence, his aura a telling yellow-orange. Harry waits it out patiently, filling his plate with food as he normally would. From the corner of his eye, he can see the looks being exchanged by the Slytherins, and he can hear the murmuring of the student body as they wonder what he's doing. Finally, Malfoy finds his voice.

"Potter, _what_ are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know," he says, taking a bite of food and forcing Malfoy to wait for an explanation. He swallows and waves his fork around flippantly. "Just having some dinner."

Malfoy's aura, which had been green since he composed himself, makes a surprising turn to pink. It unsettles Harry. If Malfoy is pleased about something, it probably means nothing good for him. He narrows his eyes. "What are you so happy for?"

With a smirk, Malfoy turns to his own food. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Harry briefly considers if he has somehow walked into a trap. That would be impossible though; Malfoy couldn't have known he would sit at the Slytherin table.

"You seem nervous, Potter. Are you expecting one of us to bite you?"

Parkinson snorts unattractively. "As if any of us would put something so unsanitary in our mouth."

Harry feels unsteady. This isn't how this was meant to play out at all. Somehow, Malfoy has the upper ground. Still, he isn't going to back down from a challenge. He lets his face fall into a mask of apathy and continues eating. The rest of the table eventually begins to go about their own business as well, talking amongst each other.

By the time Harry has finished his plate, he's surprised that no one much bothered him through the meal. It was actually rather peaceful. "Well, thanks for having me," he says as he stands, earning a few curious stares from those within earshot.

He walks away from the table feeling mostly confused about the whole ordeal. He's sure it will keep the gossip mill turning for a few days.

+

The way Harry dozes in History of Magic might lead one to believe he suffers from nightmares or insomnia. The reality is that History of Magic is so dull that he’d rather _incendio_ himself than pay attention.

“Are you attempting to create a new lake out of your dribble?”

Harry starts and rubs at his mouth, shooting a glare at Malfoy. “Shut it,” he whispers furiously. “It’s not my fault this class is so ruddy boring.”

“You're the one who chose to it. What would you rather be studying? The history of Muggles?”

“I'd rather be playing quidditch, if you must know.”

He’s expecting a snappish reply, but instead, Malfoy glances out the window. “I’ll have to agree with you on that one, Potter.”

The admission gives Harry pause. Not that Malfoy would rather be playing quidditch as well, but that he’d ever agree with Harry on anything when he has the option to be contrary.

“Is that,” Harry says, waving his hand in a small circle, “ever going to go away?”

Malfoy looks back at him placidly and one of his eyebrows twitch. “I assume you mean my aura?”

“Yes, that."

"I don't know. Why are you so interested in it anyway?"

"I'm not." The answer comes out pettishly and Harry sighs and rests his head on the table, not even bothering to pay attention to the lesson. “I don't understand how we have anything left to learn about the history of magic at this point.”

“You mean you don't want more information on the Veela Uprising of 1766?”

“There was a Veela Uprising of 1766?”

“Oh, yes,” Malfoy says, writing what looks to be notes on the parchment in front of him, “right after the Skirmish of the Blast-Ended Skrewts.”

Harry’s lips twitch as he tries to force down a smile. “Now I know you're having me on.”

“Am I?”

He could almost believe the ridiculous sounding events happened if Malfoy’s aura wasn't shimmering bright pink.

“Wait, I remember now. It was around the time Trinsy Merrington first domesticated a Flobberworm, yeah?”

Malfoy smirks and scribbles down another note just as class finally comes to an end. He gathers his belongings in silence, without another glance Harry’s way, and leaves.

It's kind of rude, but then he's just surprised to have had a civil conversation with the Slytherin at all. Apparently, even Malfoy can afford to be civil when he needs a distraction from Binns’ dreadful droning.

Harry looks up and sighs again as he notices that the homework assignment is—surprise!—another essay. He’s definitely going to fail.

+

Fifteen minutes into staring at the beginnings of his essay cures Harry of his strange bout of responsibility and he wishes he’d just gone back to Gryffindor Tower instead of to the library. He wonders what he did to deserve this. He can't believe he's being made to repeat of the worst subject in school just because he’d accidentally selected it as an elective.

Quiet footsteps approach and Harry looks over to see Malfoy pulling out a chair a few tables away.

Harry casts Muffliato and calls out to him. “Are you doing your History of Magic essay too?”

Malfoy pauses in setting his books and papers up, as if waiting for Harry to be reprimanded, then returns his gaze. “What is it to you, Potter?”

Harry rolls his eyes, propping his chin on his right palm. “I just figured we could work together, if that was the case.”

Malfoy’s goes orange and he stares as if Harry’s just asked him to strip to nothing but his pants and Slytherin tie in the middle of the library.

Although, if he thought Malfoy might say yes...

 

Did you just suggest we  _work_ together? Have you come down with something? Bump your head on the way here?”

Harry shakes off his daydreams and purses his lips. “I was just thinking, since we’re both doing the same thing in the same place— Never mind. It was a stupid idea.”

Malfoy quirks an eyebrow and finishes arranging his things before he speaks again. “What, exactly, is your definition of _working together_? The last I checked, you were absolute rubbish at History of Magic.”

"I already said never mind," Harry grumbles, staring down at his blank parchment. "You're probably not much better than I am anyway."

Malfoy lets out an incredulous scoff. "Don't try to drag me down to your level. There has never been a class I didn't excel in."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Malfoy."

A moment of silence passes.

"Fine, Potter. I'll help you with History of Magic on one condition."

Harry looks over, interest peaked, and Malfoy waves at the chair across from him. Taking the hint, Harry moves to sit with him, wondering just what sort of Devil's deal he's concocting.

He leans in, searching Harry's eyes as if he's trying to see into the depths of his soul. “If you breathe a word of what I'm about to tell you to anyone...”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Malfoy’s aura turns dark purple, but he doesn't break eye contact. "Swear that this conversation won't leave this table."

Unease begins to prickle at Harry's skin. He doesn't like to promise things without knowing what he's getting himself into. Still, he's only talking to Malfoy. Keeping a promise where he's concerned is hardly high on Harry's list of priorities.

"Fine. Tell me what you want already."

Malfoy finally leans back, seeming to lose some of his confidence. “I need use of your name to convince my mother to rescind the marriage proposal she made on my behalf.”

After a long minute of gaping, Harry finally manages to put enough words together to form a sentence. “You're betrothed? At  _sixteen_?”

“It's not uncommon in pureblood families,” he answers through gritted teeth.

“How is my name supposed to help you break it?”

Two patches of red have appeared on Malfoy’s cheeks and he looks for all the world as if he’s regretting his entire existence. “I would need to...attach it to my own. You may have to suffer through letters from my parents; simply turn them over to me when you receive them.”

“I'm very confused,” Harry admits, scratching his jaw.

“Of course you are.” Malfoy closes his eyes and takes a long breath. “I’ll need to tell my mother that you and I are romantically involved, and therefore I cannot see my betrothal through. Upon hearing such news, she will, of course, try to convince both me and my partner to split. There are very few people I believe would be able to resist the temptation to flee under my mother’s bribes or threats.”

What kind of mother— Harry begins to think, when Malfoy opens his eyes and continues.

“The threats are meant to be intimidating,” he snaps. “She isn't just going to go around casting Unforgivables at people.”

Harry deflates a bit, slumping forward onto the tabletop. This was a large deal of information to sort through at once.

“You won't need to involve yourself at all,” Malfoy stresses.

“And you’ll help me with my coursework for the rest of the year?”

“As long as you don't back out of your side of the agreement.”

"What about Potions?"

Malfoy frowns. "What _about_  them?"

"Will you help me with Potions too?"

After a short moment of considering, he nods. "Fine. Do we have a deal?"

 _Dangerous waters_ , Harry thinks, _getting involved with Malfoy, even as a ruse._

He rubs his face and tries to put himself in the other boy’s shoes. He can't imagine being in an arranged marriage at all, let alone so early in life. And for Malfoy to ask him, of all people, for help, means he must be pretty desperate. Something heavy settles in the pit of his stomach and he ignores the warning bells sounding in his head. “Okay, Malfoy. It’s a deal.”

+

Harry lets himself into the Room of Requirement and raises his eyebrows at the scene. Half of the room has a simple layout of papers and books on tables—accompanied by several house plants, for some reason—while the other half is like a watered-down version of the Potions classroom. He walks over and peers at the cauldrons and ingredients. "Is this allowed?"

Malfoy looks up, aura a light purple-gray that drives Harry insane. Purples don't make any sense and he's _sure_ Malfoy wouldn't tell him what they were if he asked. "Does it matter?"

"I suppose not," Harry concedes, moving to take a seat at the table with  the books, much as he is loathe to do it. He looks over some of the notes laid out as Malfoy continues to work on whatever he'd been doing before Harry's arrival. Harry finds that he can actually follow along with them pretty easily. They're simple, brief, and seem to only contain useful information. Whenever he had tried to copy Hermione’s notes, there had been so much information that he had been easily overwhelmed and didn't know where to focus. “These are really good.”

“They're just notes,” Malfoy says shortly, as if he’s being ridiculous.

“Yeah, but, good? I mean, they're much easier to digest than Hermione’s notes. I swear, she may as well just copy the entire textbook.”

“She may as well just _rewrite_ the entire textbook,” Malfoy counters. “Are you incapable of writing your own notes during class?”

“They don't come out very well, to be honest."

Malfoy rolls his eyes. "Finally, something Harry Potter isn't naturally adept at."

Harry isn't sure whether to take the comment as a compliment or not, so he just ignores it and looks at the parchment in front of Malfoy. "What's that?"

"A lesson plan. What I'll be tutoring you on and when."

Harry groaned and let his head fall to the table. "What was I thinking? Now it'll be like I'm taking _two_ History of Magic and Potions classes."

"Don't be so dramatic." There's a shuffling and then something is poking Harry in the cheek. "And I'll need you to sign this."

He raises his head slowly and looks at the parchment he's being prodded with. "What is it?"

"A contract. What does it look like?"

Harry sits up properly to take it and read it over. As he does, Malfoy explains how magic contracts work, assuming Harry would have no knowledge of them. He doesn't, but Malfoy could have at least asked.

The contract is pretty straight forward, barring him from talking about their arrangement to anyone else. He reads it a second time to make sure there's no dastardly loop-holes for Malfoy to exploit, and finally signs off on it. Malfoy plucks the parchment up and rolls it before sliding it into his jacket pocket.

"Now that that's out of the way, we can begin."

Harry sighs and resigns himself to the work. It is going to be a long year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cacoethes: an urge to do something inadvisable  
> aka almost all of harry's urges
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this chapter! i had to repost it due to an error with ao3. :/


	3. Chapter 3

The first correspondence Harry has with Narcissa is three days later over breakfast. He eyes the letter apprehensively, hoping it's not a howler. Narcissa Malfoy has always come across as rather composed, but he's seldom seen her and never interacted with her. He considers just handing it over to Malfoy, like he's expected to, but his curiosity gets the better of him. Plus, he wants to know what kind of threats are now being hung over his head. With a deep breath, he opens it, and is met with blessed silence.

He's so engrossed in reading it that he doesn't notice Hermione leaning over his shoulder until she asks who's sent him a letter, making him jump. He closes the letter quickly and holds it to his chest. "It's nothing."

She gives him an odd look and doesn't take a seat like he expects her too. Instead, she tells Ron that they'll be back and grabs Harry's wrist, pulling him from the table. Ron barely does more than grunt into his food, leaving him to be carted off for interrogation.

He stumbles a bit as she drags him into the corridor, ignoring the curious stares of passerbys. She doesn't stop until she finds an empty room, which she pulls him into and shuts the door. Once she locks it, she lets him go and faces him.

"What is that, Harry?"

"A letter," he answers, regretting it as soon as her expression darkens.

"Yes, I can see that it's a letter. But you nearly jumped a foot in the air when I asked who sent it and immediately closed it, as if you were worried about me seeing it."

"That is...what happened, yes."

She sighs. "Harry, I don't mean to pry, but that's hardly normal behavior. Is something going on? Is it serious?"

Harry wishes he could tell her, wishes he had put that caveat into his contract with Malfoy. He considers his words carefully. "There is something going on, but it's not anything you need to worry about. I promise. It's under control."

She stares at him for a while longer, studying him. Finally, she seems to accept his words and lets out a breath of relief. "Okay. I trust you. Just know you can always come to me if you need to."

He nods and smiles gratefully at her.

"All right, let's get back to breakfast before Ron actually registers our absence."

+

“Your mum’s invited me over,” Harry says that evening, interrupting a very boring origin story of a potion he doesn't see himself ever having to use.

Malfoy hums. "Expeditious as always."

“You remind me of Hermione when you use words like that.”

Malfoy stops writing, devoting his entire body to showing how offended he is. “Granger isn't the only person in school that knows words with more than two syllables, Potter.”

“It wasn't an insult, Malfoy. Don't get your pants in a twist. Trust me, I wouldn't be getting your help with work if I actually thought you were an idiot.”

The aura begins to glow a soft pink and Harry smirks, picking out his next words with purpose.

“You may be an insufferable arse, but not an idiot.”

The look of angered disbelief he receives for his efforts makes him laugh out loud.

Malfoy collects himself and begins to write again. “Anyway, I told you to hand all letters over to me. I’ll be writing your responses for you.”

“If I go, she isn't going to try to poison me, is she?”

“If my mother was going to poison someone, she wouldn't do it so obviously. That would just be asking for everyone to think she’s guilty. A moot point, in the end, as you won't be going.”

Harry scratches his nose and leans back in his chair. “Well, I may already have said yes?”

“You’re not serious.” Malfoy deadpans, looking back up. “Write her now and claim that something has come up unexpectedly.”

“What, why?”

“Think carefully, Potter, to what you have agreed to. You would have to convince my mother that you have _feelings_ for me, of the _positive_ variety, I might remind you. You would have to act cordial to me for the entire duration of the visit.”

Harry mulls the idea over, chewing on his bottom lip. There’s a voice that sounds quite like Hermione’s going over the pros and cons in his mind, with the latter list severely outweighing the former. Clearly, he should decline.

There must be some communication problem going on between his head and mouth, maybe interference being caused by Malfoy’s strange, grey-blue aura, because the next words he speaks are, “I can do it.”

Malfoy is visibly shocked, but he pulls himself together with impressive speed. "Why would you _want_ to?"

"I'm curious, I guess."

They stare at each other for a moment more before Malfoy finally accepts the answer. "Fine, I'll humor you, but I'll not have you showing up and completely lacking in etiquette. We're done with today's planned study. We'll focus on teaching you some basic house and brunch rules instead."

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes. "Purebloods."

Malfoy sniffed at him. "It is not _our_ fault that the rest of you lack class and decorum."

"How'd you know it was a brunch she invited me to, anyway?"

"What else would it be?"

Harry is tempted to list other meal options, but he has the feeling that his answers would be met with mockery, as if the rest of the world runs the same way that his world does. "Oh, you're quite right," he deadpans. "How silly of me to ask."

"I won't hold it against you, Potter. It's not the first doltish thing you've said and it certainly won't be the last."

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Harry grumbles, but Malfoy ignored him in favor of beginning an explanation about _acceptable clothing_ for the brunch.

+

Harry receives another letter from Narcissa Malfoy the following morning, thanking him for his timely reply and a bunch of other boring posturing that makes him want to roll his eyes. He doesn't even consider handing this one over to Malfoy, as dull as it is, and simply vanishes it. He notices that Hermione is looking at him skeptically and smiles to try to ease the tension. It doesn't work.

"You've been strangely missing in the evening these past few days," she says, sounding far more casual than he knows she is.

"Yeah, where've you been, mate?" Ron asks, leaning around his other side.

"You probably won't believe it, but I've been studying." _Ha_ , he thought. He was telling his friends the truth _and_ upholding his end of the contract.

Hermione's eyes widen a fraction and she finally smiles at him. "I'm proud of you, Harry! But why are you doing it alone? You _could_ study with me, you know. Or Ron."

"Hey, don't volunteer me into extra work," Ron complains, sitting back in his seat.

"Well, I think my current method is working pretty well," Harry says, surprised by the honesty of it, surprised that he and Malfoy haven't actually ripped each other's heads off yet. "If I need any extra help, I'll let you know."

Hermione nods, placated, apparently forgetting to be worried for him for the time being, which he's grateful for. His gaze travels across the room to Malfoy, who is looking at him with an expression that says he saw Harry magic away the letter. If Malfoy wanted them so bad, he should've wrote it into the contract. But he didn't. Harry makes a face at him and goes back to eating.

+

_It's too early._

_It's too early for whar should be a Saturday lie in._ But he has to leave now.

He rolls out of bed and gets dressed, before stumbling to his friend. "Ron."

Ron makes a vague noise into his pillow.

"Ron, I'm going to be out today. It's related to the studying I've been doing."

"What time is it?" Ron mumbles, attempting to open his eyes.

"Never mind that. It's early. Go back to sleep. I'll be back later, all right?"

He makes another sleepy sound and takes Harry at face value, turning his face the other way and falling back to sleep easily. Harry stares at him for a moment, wishing to go back to sleep himself. But he doesn't want to be around when Ron finally wakes up, because he isn't sure how well he would hold up if anyone started asking him questions about where he was going. It was precisely the reason he'd waited till the morning of the brunch to bring it up and hadn't mentioned anything to Hermione at all.

He yawns and grabs his invisibility cloak, slipping it around him and making the walk down to the dungeons. He'd gotten Malfoy to tell him the password to get in the day before. Harry had assured him that he could enter unnoticed and he's pretty sure Malfoy only gave it up because he wanted to see Harry fail.

Harry doesn't have the energy to be smug about it as he walks through the Slytherin common room, and then dorms, like a ghost. Malfoy was even more hesitant about telling Harry where he slept, but he had done that too, after enough heckling.

Arriving at the bed, Harry draws back the curtains and stares down at the lump beneath the blankets, only the platinum hair peeking out of the top an indicator of who was beneath them. He pulls his cloak off so he doesn't terrorize Malfoy into yelling and waking up the rest of the room.

"Malfoy," he hisses, trying not to be too loud. No response. He prods the lump with his wand. Not even a stirring. Resisting the urge to just push him off the bed, Harry grabs the covers and yanks them down, hoping the cool air will wake him.

Malfoy simply turns over, fast asleep. Harry is struck by just how relaxed he looks. The way the moonlight falls over his skin makes him look like something out of a fairy tale. _Wait, moonlight?_ Harry looks up to see what appears to be a tiny moon with tinier stars suspended above. _Pretty_ , he thinks, as he turns his attention back to the sleeping boy beneath them.

He sighs and grabs Malfoy's shoulder to shake him. "Malfoy, get up."

After a few more shakes, the Slytherin finally blinks up at him. There is a long silence followed by, "Am I still dreaming?"

Harry snorts and releases his grip to stand upright again. "If you _were_ dreaming, this would be a pretty odd scenario for your mind to conjure up."

Malfoy squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and then reopens them, slowing coming to his senses. "Dense as always, Potter. Now I'm sure I'm awake."

"I haven't even done anything and you're already insulting me."

"You woke me up at--" Malfoy frowns and pushes himself up. "What time is it even?"

"About seven."

Malfoy stares at him for a long time. "You _do_ remember what a brunch is, don't you, Potter? Are you capable of telling late and early morning from one another?"

He glares back and crosses his arms. "I _know_ what a brunch is. And I also know that if I tried to leave once Hermione and Ron were awake, then I wouldn't ever _get_ to the brunch."

With a heaving sigh, Malfoy swings his feet off the bed and stands, bringing him too close to Harry for comfort for a small moment before he moves away. "Go wait in the common room. Since we're up, we may as well go get you a decent outfit."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Harry stares down at his clothes for a moment, considering putting up a protest, then decides against it. He doesn't need to be waking everyone up with an argument and be forced to explain why he's there, of all places.

It takes far longer than Harry thinks is reasonable for Malfoy to finally be ready to leave, which he says as they exit the common room.

"Some of us actually _care_ about our appearance and don't want to look like we rolled straight out of bed and into a pile of old clothing to start our day."

"Yeah, and some of us care about being decent human beings. Funny that."

Malfoy gives him a scathing look, but holds his tongue. "Why did you even agree to this? You can't go five minutes in my company without insulting me. Mother will never believe you're courting me."

His cheeks heat involuntarily at the idea of _courting_ anyone, but he's too annoyed to think about it much. " _You_ started it, the second you opened your eyes."

"That was hardly an insult. I say worse to my friends on a regular basis."

They stop to check around a corner for any prying eyes before they continue.

"Ron was right, you really _don't_ know what friends are."

Malfoy stops immediately and turns to him, aura a dark red and face furious. "Can't you stop being an irritating, condescending _tosser_ for one day?"

"You're one to talk!" Harry shouts, then immediately snaps his mouth shut, expecting someone to suddenly come barreling around the corner at the noise. They spend a long minute just glowering at each other before Harry finally passes Malfoy a long strip of cloth to use as a blindfold. "Put this on. I know a passage to Hogsmeade."

"And what does one have to do with the other?"

"Because I don't need you and your friends coming and going through there. Find your own passage."

Malfoy clenches his jaw, then ties the cloth behind his head. "Happy?"

Harry almost begins walking again before realizing that he'll have to guide Malfoy now. He hesitates before taking hold of Malfoy's forearm and beginning to pull him forward.

He takes a few nonsensical turns to make sure Malfoy can't memorize where they've gone, then comes to a stop in front of the statue. " _Dissendium_."

The passage opens and he guides Malfoy to sit on the slide.

"What in the world are we doing?"

"Just don't scream," Harry says, then pushes him down the slide, following after saying a soft _lumos_ to light his wand. They almost collide at the bottom, but manage to avoid it as Malfoy throws the blindfold off to the side and scrambles out of the way. His aura is a new shade of purple, bright and vibrant.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" he yells, getting to his feet. "Were you trying to _kill_ me?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Malfoy. It wouldn't have killed you. Let's go. It's about an hour to Hogsmeade."

Harry walks off, leaving Malfoy to keep spluttering in the dark or follow him. Malfoy follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip to draco's soul, which probably flew out of him as he was plunged down a slide with a blindfold on.
> 
> i'm having fun writing this! i hope you're having fun reading! :)
> 
> also note that they are permitted to go to hogsmeade on weekends as normal, they just dont want to be seen together in school, hence the sneaking about


	4. Chapter 4

Harry's patience lasts through twenty minutes of Malfoy's grumbling before he turns and nearly sticks the other boy with his wand. "Can't you do anything else but complain?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Malfoy says, voice deceptively soft. "Here I was, thinking I deserved to be upset about being dragged from bed first thing in the morning, slighted, blindfolded, and then pushed down a _bloody chute_ into a dark corridor, but I guess I was wrong."

Swallowing his automatic response, Harry lowers his wand and looks Malfoy in the eyes. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Malfoy stares back for a long moment before huffing, the red of his aura losing some of its darkness. "Whatever, Potter. Let's go. I don't want to spend any longer down here than I have to."

Harry counts it as good a win as any and turns back around to keep walking. For some reason, Malfoy decides to spend the time quizzing Harry on History of Magic and Potions, but it's at least better than the grousing.

They eventually make it to the cellar beneath Honeydukes, at which point Malfoy stops questioning him on plants and stuffy, old guys to ask where they are.

"Hogsmeade," he answers, smiling at the glare he is sure is on Malfoy's face. He doesn't bother checking, choosing instead to lead them out.

Back in his own element, Malfoy wastes no time in shuffling Harry into a shop he's only looked at—disinterestedly—from the window. A man approaches them and Malfoy waves him off, telling him that they were fine for the day. The man defers to Malfoy, not even mentioning the fact that the boy is shrouded in pink, which Harry can only take to mean he truly _enjoys_ shopping. Harry also notes that he and the man are on a first name basis, so he must come around here regularly.

"We can't have you looking like you're trying too hard, but you need to at least be presentable. Mother knows I would not settle for less in a relationship and I want to give her no reason to suspect anything is amiss. Red complements your eyes well, but I see quite enough of that at Hogwarts. Something muted, perhaps, with purple embellishments." Malfoy grabs clothes while talking and holds them up to Harry, occasionally turning him this way and that, and it's all he can do to try to follow along and stumble over his own feet as he is dragged about the shop. "Or perhaps we should go for a more casual look. It would certainly put you more as ease, which I can only assume will improve your performance. Though there could be some merit in using the _nervous about meeting my possible future mother-in-law_ stratagem."

Harry's head is spinning by the time he's being pushed into a fitting room with an armful of clothing. He stares down in confusion, wondering which pieces he is supposed to wear together. There's a loud huff from the other side of the door before Malfoy is crowding into the space with him and grabbing the clothes from his hands.

"You are truly useless, aren't you? Here, these first. And shut your mouth, for Merlin's sake, before something flies into it."

He does as he's bid, unaware of when it had even fallen open, but he continues to stand there awkwardly, wondering if he's meant to change in front of Malfoy. He'd never had a problem changing in front of his friends before, but he wasn't dealing with a friend right now.

Seeming to get the gist of the dilemma, Malfoy rolls his eyes and turns away. "There, I'm not looking. Better?"

Harry frowns and looks back to the clothes he has. The sooner he tries them on, the sooner they can be done here, and it's that thought that directs his limbs to move. Not for the first time, he wonders at what lunacy drove him to his current situation.

+

Harry is surprised to find that he doesn't _hate_ the outfit that was chosen for him, even if he was disgruntled by Malfoy telling the man in the store—Edward—to _put it on the tab_ and forcibly shooing Harry and his protestations out of the shop.

"I have enough money to pay for my own clothes," he complains, wondering how much they cost, not that it really matters.

"I'm sure you could, Potter." Malfoy answers like it's a second thought, eyes off in the distance as he contemplates something. "Do you think we should also get you—"

" _No_ ," Harry interrupts. "I'm not a dress up doll, you know."

Malfoy considers him and then makes a sour face which says he's been found wanting. "No, I suppose not. You'd be much better company if that were the case."

Scowling, Harry marches off. He isn't sure where he's going, but he's going _somewhere_. Somewhere that Malfoy _isn't_ , because there's still two more hours to kill before they have to be at brunch and it wouldn't do to strangle the Slytherin before then.

Storming off to get away from the prat doesn't work out as well as he had intended, considering Malfoy just follows after him, telling him to stop being so _sensitive_.

They end up in Spintwitches Sporting Needs, where he ignores Malfoy until he finally makes his way to the Quidditch section. It soothes him some, the familiarity and distraction, and he's soon debating on which Quidditch team is the best as they browse the selection of snitches confined in glass cases. When he mentions Ron's favoritism of the Chudley Cannons in passing, Malfoy surprisingly just raises his eyebrows at him without comment.

"I could use a new snitch," Malfoy says, peering down at, of course, the most costly one. "Unfortunate that I can't buy a competent opponent along with it."

In the end, he decides not to buy anything there, and they leave Spintitches empty-handed. Suddenly aware of the emptiness of his stomach, Harry attempts to buy some food, but is physically pulled away. Malfoy reminds him that they'll be having food at his house, to which Harry counters that he'll eat everything in an awful show of decorum if he doesn't get something in his stomach before then. Relenting, Malfoy lets Harry buy a few scones to tide him over, looking partly impressed and mostly disturbed by how quickly he gets them down.

"Have you secretly learned how to do a vanishing spell inside of your mouth or did you simply swallow those whole?"

He sucks the jam off his fingers unrepentently and answers with a simple, "Yes."

They wander around for a bit after that, heading in and out of shops to pass the time. Harry isn't having such a bad time of it, actually, until he's suddenly being shoved against a hard alley wall. Before he can muster up more than a noise of surprise, Malfoy is covering his mouth with a hand and crowding against his side, telling him to hush.

"Ravenclaws," Malfoy whispers, tickling Harry's ear with his breath. He gives an almost imperceptible nod to the right and Harry's eyes flick over to catch sight of two girls paused on the pavement a few yards away. They seem to be brooding over a shared piece of parchment, but it would only take a second for them to turn and see Harry and Malfoy, who happen to be pressed very closely right now. Malfoy's swirling purple aura would easily draw the eyes of their classmates if caught in even their peripheral.

Harry shakes the hand off his face and starts to shuffle further into the alley, not wanting to just run and cause a scene. He wishes he hadn't left his invisibility cloak in passage from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade, but he hadn't really thought he'd need use of it. Malfoy follows close behind him and they manage to get away unseen, but it's only a time before more students start to pour into Hogsmeade, as they do every weekend.

"How much longer do we have?"

"About a half hour," Malfoy says, glancing around as if he's expecting someone to come jumping through the wall in the dead-ended alley they've blocked themselves into. Well, Harry can't really blame him overmuch; he's seen stranger things.

"Do you think she'll mind us showing up early?"

Malfoy purses his lips for a moment. "We may be spotted on our way out. I'm going to stay a few steps ahead of you. Pretend we didn't come here together."

Harry nods and trails behind him at a reasonable distance. His heart rate picks up quickly as he spots Neville at the door to Dogweed and Deathcap, but he slips by undetected.

As they near the fireplaces used to get in and out of Hogsmeade, Malfoy tells him that if they don't specify where in the manor they want to come out, they could be spit out at a number of locations. "I don't need you wandering around the place, nor would I like to be the one trying to track you down. Yelling, 'Draco Malfoy's bedroom,' might draw some unwanted attention, so we'll go to the back parlor."

Harry nodded and flooed backwards, on the off chance that someone might see his face as he's loudly declaring his intent to go to the Malfoy Manor's back parlor. He steps out of the way just as Malfoy comes through and blinks at his surroundings. He had assumed that the manor would be opulent, but it's a whole other thing to see it up close.

A house elf scuttles up to them immediately and he wonders if it was just waiting around the fireplace in the case that someone might come through. When it asks if they need anything, Malfoy tells it to inform his mother that they will be waiting in the garden.

"Come on then," Malfoy says, already halfway across the room, heading for the door that leads outside.

He follows after, but almost loses sight of Malfoy a few times as he gets distracted by his surroundings. He's never been one for plants and gardening, but even he can admit that the gardens are beautiful. The only problem is their maze-like set up, leaving him a few times confused and alone before Malfoy backtracks to find him.

They finally end up at what must be the right spot, as Malfoy takes a seat at a round table in a pristine, white gazebo. Harry hesitates on where the right spot to sit is until Malfoy points to a place on his right. Despite the calm demeanor, Malfoy's aura is purple, and Harry turns that over in his head until it finally clicks into place. Purple is _fear_. Embarrassment, nervousness, fright, they all align with the emotion of fear. He can't help but to grin at having finally cracked the code and Malfoy looks over at him with clear exasperation.

"I know I said to be cordial, but if you continue to smile like that, she'll think you're a nutter."

He lets out a bark of laughter and leans forward onto the table, which probably is frowned upon here, not that he cares. "You look nervous, Malfoy."

"I do not. I _am_ not," Malfoy says primly, straightening as he brushes imaginary dust from his trousers. The aura darkens, which only makes Harry's grin widen.

"Your aura says otherwise," he says, wiggling his fingers in it.

Malfoy swats his hand away and scowls. "How do _you_ know what my aura is saying?"

He almost comes out with the fact that he and Hermione have been studying it, but catches himself in time and just shrugs. "I have a great intuition."

That makes Malfoy snort and he raises his eyebrows as he mimics Harry's pose by leaning onto the table. "Okay, Mighty Intuitive One, then what do the rest of the colours mean?"

Harry hesitates, wondering if he should really give away his knowledge. He decides that, yes, he should, if just to wipe the disbelieving look from Malfoy's face. "Red is anger. Yellow is surprise. Pink is happiness. Blue is sadness. I'm not really sure what green is, but it's certainly not good."

The words have their intended affect, as Malfoy's eyes widen and his aura turns yellow, proving Harry's point. "How do you even know all that?"

Harry takes on the look of someone very dispassionate and raises his chin, looking off into the garden around them. "I am capable of paying attention to things, you know." He can almost hear Hermione's voice in his head: _Yeah, when it's Malfoy you've got to pay attention to._

"I do have to admit, I'm surprised."

He turns back to look at Malfoy and his yellow aura pointedly. "You don't say."

After a quick rolling of his eyes, Malfoy drops the subject to make a comment out of left field. "You cheated today, by the way."

Harry stares for a long while, trying to figure out what Malfoy is referring to, before finally giving up. "Cheated on what?"

"It's hardly a challenge to sneak through the Slytherin Common Room when everyone is _asleep_ , Potter. I was assuming you would turn up later than that."

 _Oh_ , Harry thinks, and gives a cheeky grin. "Well, you know what they say about what happens when you assume. You make an ass out of y—"

"Yes, yes, laugh it up, you rotten cheat. My original point still stands, that there's no way you could make it through unnoticed if there were actual people around."

"I'd love to see you eat those words, Malfoy," Harry says, already thinking about the earliest convenience for him to don his invisibility cloak and sneak up on the git while he's doing whatever it is he does in the dungeons. He envisions scaring the life out of both Malfoy and Parkinson in one go, which would be a great thing to lord over Malfoy for the remainder of their deal, if he wasn't hexed to pieces first.

"I don't like that gleam in your eye," Malfoy says with a frown.

"Oh? But I thought you liked my sparkly, green eyes? Isn't that why you asked me out in the first place?"

Malfoy looks at half a mind to smack him in the head. "If anyone asked anyone out here, it was you, because I am obviously a catch."

"Obviously," Harry says dryly. "If one likes the idea of a trophy husband who only complains and buys outrageously expensive clothes."

"You didn't even see the price of those clothes, so how would you know?"

"Intuition. And also the knowledge that I don't think you know _how_ to buy anything that's worth less than your weight in gold."

Malfoy opens his mouth to shoot something back, but only gets as far as, "I'll have you know," before a noise from behind them causes them both to startle and turn.

Mrs. Malfoy looks down at them, exuding an air that is, impossibly, somehow both disapproving and fond. She crosses to the empty side of the table and sits gracefully, at which point Malfoy greets her and then kicks Harry in the ankle.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy."

"You as well, Mr. Potter."

The light atmosphere that he and Malfoy had remarkably managed to create between the two of them begins to dissipate and it isn't until Malfoy's aura returns to purple that Harry notices that it had previously been pink.

He manages to work up a smile and tries to relax some. He's faced things plenty scarier than talking to a middle-aged woman. This should be easy. Everything would be fine.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, i just made a new blog for my tv/film fandoms and i have exactly 0 followers, bls come interact with me, it's @ [pratboyfriends](http://pratboyfriends.tumblr.com/)
> 
> also thank you to everyone who has left a kind comment on the previous chapters, it means so much to me honestly!!


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